In my traditional and digital art, I journey into landscapes and explore how we impact our natural world. By carving paint with palette knives, or by scratching lines on my tablet, I build bridges, boardwalks, stairs, ladders. This world is ours to explore, these artworks say. This world has become ours. In humanity’s short time on Earth, our actions have become the most powerful force on climate and environment. But just as quickly as we’ve changed our global home, our own homes change. Left alone, our buildings are temporary – fading in generations, weathered by wind and water. What will we leave behind? What will it look like when our safe dwellings become ruins? Above rivers, bridges rust away. In a Rocky Mountain forest, a wooden water wheel creaks. Roman roads turn to rounded stones. As time passes, nothing remains unchanged. Minerals settle on the edges of cave pools. Drops, one by one, carve channels in rock, in paint pigment. With sandpaper, I soften acrylic ridges. Certain rock formations, called “soda straws,” are too fragile to survive human touch. In art, I can wonder about a world that comes after me – one where I won’t reach out for them.